But jealous souls will not be answer’d so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house.

And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours? and lovers’ absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!